Friday, August 1, 2008

So a week or so ago, Brandon, a college-age dude, is talking to me about how he met his girlfriend. He met her on Facebook. They talked to each other, online, on different sides of their college campus. And now they're the second coming of Brangelina, minus the African orphans.

So, evidently, I’m old. 25 is now old. Cause he told me he ‘poked’ her on Facebook. Isn’t that like sexual assault? What if the girl's not 18?

He’s telling me he can help me learn how to pick up women (oh, the advice I need... of course, he's what I like to call "in shape" and "handsome," which helps. I'm what I like to call "the wingman"). I’m thinking, dude, when I was your age, we were doing old school flirting. Instant message style. Emoticons. ;). Bam. That's a relationship right there. :o) ... can you resist that?

And before that? I’m picking up girls on the Oregon Trail, brother. Shooting buffalo. Fixing rations. A girl can’t ford the river in that game, she’s dead to me. I used to name all the other girls in the wagon based on girls I liked. Then, as they would die off-- I was ruthless with rations. Ruthless.-- the girl that lasted longest would be the girl I'd try to go after. Never worked. Not once. Freakin Oregon Trail...

Poking girls. Shoot. Can you imagine doing that in real life, as an adult? Go up to that hot girl at the grocery store. Poke her in the side. Run away. Wait to see if she pokes you back. Or even better, "superpoke." Which I guess is like getting to third base, Facebook style.